


At Ease

by Coolguyreiner (luciferswhiteloafers)



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Aimless fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, tablespoon of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 03:24:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10179575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciferswhiteloafers/pseuds/Coolguyreiner
Summary: They haven't done more than share a bed and a few heated kisses but god, he wants more, he selfishly wants everything Dick will give him. He's very good at taking and he worries he won't be able to stop.





	

The sight of Dick in his jacket hits him harder than he would have expected. He's not exactly wearing it, just sleeping under it, the tight lines of his face relaxed in sleep, but it strikes a primal chord within him nonetheless. He walks forward quietly, squatting down in front of his sprawled friend. He looks younger like this, some of the war drifting away from the set of his shoulders, the slope of his mouth. Lewis can't help but reach out and ghost his hand over the surface of the jacket, fingers itching to dig in, to pull it away so he can get at the next layer and then the next until he can press himself into warm, pale skin take some of that peace for himself. He stares at the Nixon patch and smiles - his name looks good on Dick. 

It almost feels like some ache inside him loosens at the mere sight of this man. Just being near him is relaxing. It's hard to think of them in terms beyond their next interaction, nothing assured until they've laid eyes on one another again. He can still focus and perform his duties as well as Lewis Nixon and all his vices ever would have been able to, redheaded nuisance or not, but his thoughts flit to him every moment he's unoccupied. If he has time to light a cigarette he has time to wonder how Dick is doing, if he's getting enough rest, if he's taking care of himself as well as he takes care of his men. Based on the bags under his eyes it doesn't look like it. Nix had only been back long enough to drop his things in the room they're apparently sharing with Harry, whose voice he hears blathering away downstairs. No bed, just a couch Dick couldn't be bothered to clean off before he slumped on the floor to nap under the warmest thing in sight - Nix's jacket. He wishes it was him instead. 

His thighs are starting to burn from observing in this position so he lowers himself to the ground with a sigh, sliding close to Dick as quietly as he can, pressing their sides together and lowering his head to his shoulder. He's not awake to insist Nix take the couch and Harry won't think anything of it so he makes himself comfortable, sliding his fingers over Dick's under the cover of the jacket. He smells like sweat and soap and like whatever it is about Pennsylvania farm boy that drives Nix wild. Something comforting and clean. He takes in another lungful, relishing the relaxing sensation that follows. This thing between them keeps him going more than the whiskey or the shitty army rations. Even if there's no time or space or privacy for anything but words and closeness it keeps him upright. The longing, however, is something Lewis Nixon is unaccustomed to. His experiences with life have led him to quick satisfaction and even quicker disappointment. Richard Winters has been neither. Sometime it feels like he could die of it, this endless ache to be with him, to know him as well as he knows himself. Dick grunts and shifts in his sleep, unconsciously shifting towards Lew and more warmth, breath ruffling his hair. He can hear shelling in the distance, half a mile at least, by his guess. Nothing at all for Easy men to sleep through noise like that. He's selfishly torn between letting him get some much needed rest and waking him to talk, to have a few quiet minutes while Harry and the rest of the world are still downstairs. He thinks of those tired eyes again and stays quiet, listening to the sound of his even breaths, a sound he could pick out in a room with twenty other snoring men. He closes his eyes and thinks, as he often does, about a time when they can lie in a bed together, wrapped up in each other and warm, as close as they wanted to be, relaxed and unhurried, just taking their time enjoying each other. 

His self preservation instincts have always been pretty high but now the stakes of survival are different, now there's a chance to be with Dick, to see him in a real suit across the table at some fancy joint, smiling at him, open and happy. He'll fight tooth and nail for that. By god the U.S. Army might just get the kind of soldier they've been expecting out of Nix with odds like that on the line. He feels stronger with Dick at his side, braver and faster and just better, even at his lowest moments, when doubt and fear claw at his insides, he feels more solid knowing Dick is out there. Even if they're not in the same place he still feels anchored by the other man. He squeezes his fingers and wills that to be enough for now, has to bite his tongue and clench his other first to stop himself from waking him. 

"Nix"

Dammit. He feels an answering squeeze and looks up to meet that steady gaze. "Hey there, you. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

Dick smiles sleepily and presses a kiss to Lew's hair. "It’s ok. Missed you." 

Those words wash over him like a warm bath, soothing the restless little worries he carries when they're apart. He doesn't doubt his friend's affection for him, merely his own worthiness of it. It feels inevitable that one day Dick will wake up and realize how much better he could do than Lewis Nixon as far as friends go, not to mention anything more permanent. 

When he smiles at him like this though, small and quiet and just for him, it feels like he might be as close to the center of Dick's world as he is to his. 

Blue eyes flick to the empty couch. "Harry still downstairs?" Lew squeezes his hand and nods, Harry's laugh bubbling up the stairs before he needs to elaborate further. Taking advantage of the moment, Dick slumps closer to him, pressing their foreheads together, thumb coming up to trace the faint mark of the lucky Neunen bullet. Nix wonders if Dick even knows he’s doing it, his hands always seemed to drift there when they’re alone after being separated, like he has to feel that he’s whole and fine all over again. 

It should be completely impossible for someone to feel that intensely about him, value his life so dearly. Someone like him. Nix wants to kiss his friend, to climb in his lap and grind down until Dick feels how much he wants him, how much his body craves his touch. He could try it, he might let him get away with a few minutes of semi-chaste necking before he'd sigh and push him off, remind him that anyone could come upstairs and ruin them. He settles for a quick press of dry lips, trying to press all of his want and affection into the brief contact. Dick smiles with his eyes closed, blush creeping up his neck. 

They haven't done more than share a bed and a few heated kisses but god, he wants more, he selfishly wants everything Dick will give him. He's very good at taking and he worries he won't be able to stop. 

"Someday soon I'll find us decent quarters with privacy and a lock. A real moment alone. I know this isn't enough for you." 

He opens his mouth to protest and finds a slim finger pressing his lips shut. "Don't lie Lew, I know you, I've seen you on the dance floor, felt you against me at night. I know you're tactile, I just need you to know that's it's only a matter of feasibility, not my desire for you. I want you very much."

He nods, trying to project patience and understanding. "You got me all wrong, Winters. I'd rather have nothing but handshakes and a heart full of poetry for you than a lifetime in bed with anybody else. Even if..." he meets his eyes, willing himself as much as Dick to feel the truth of it. "Even if this was all I ever got with you, it would still be more than I'd ever had. More than I deserve." 

He gets another leisurely smile and a squeeze of his hand. "We’ll have so much more, I promise. I intend to enjoy the good fortune bestowed upon me." Nix laughs and steals another quick kiss, too full of love to resist the impulse. Dick surprises him by sighing into his mouth and leaning forward, teeth pressing into Nix's lip as he pushes himself closer. It seems he's not the only one with a heart too full to contain. He hears a desperate little sound and fears it came from him, all the need within him that has been so tightly coiled for weeks, months, years, threatening to spring free, to make him push back against his friend, pin him to the ground and press their bodies together in the way they were always meant to touch. It feels like the most natural thing in the world, everything else going quiet, his universe honed in on the sound of Dick's breathing, the taste of his tongue as it slips carefully past his lips. His mind spins away from him as the kiss continues, granting him more than he could have dare to hope. Each second he expects Dick to pull away and can't help losing himself a little more every time he doesn't. The kiss rolls over him like a storm, shaking loose parts of him that were battened down, held in place and controlled until their waiting game was through. 

Chancing it, he opens his eyes, takes in the out of focus view of Dick like this, eyes closed in abandon, a dirty shank of red hair falling across his forehead. He closes his eyes again and imagines bathing with him, settling behind that lanky frame, loving the weight of him against his chest. Thinks of how it would be to wash his hair, fingers carefully carding through the short locks until it shone sunshine red again. He follows the impulse and reaches up, digging his fingers in against the back of his head, pulling him closer so he can slot their mouths together perfectly, in total alignment like they always are, always have been. Just as the warm shock of a tongue brushes his they hear someone near the foot of the stairs, maybe just standing on the landing but loud enough to push them apart. 

Dick reaches up and brushes the hair from Lew's face, smile wistful and full of regret as he pulls away completely, taking off the borrowed jacket and handing it back. 

"Thanks for that. It was warm and smells a lot better than mine."

Lew takes a whiff and snorts. “You sure about that?” To him it reeks of chemicals and smoke and every other kind of fume. Dick throws him a quizzical look as he makes his way over to the window. 

“Of course” as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. It only takes him a minute to realize there must be something about the smell of a heavy-smoking, hard-drinking spoiled college boy that drives Dick a little bit crazy too.

He pictures him wearing his jacket properly, striding around in front of Sink and the men with a brand of Lew’s ownership sewn onto his chest. His mind skips back even further and pictures meeting Dick at school, spending an evening pouring over books before Lew suggests they take a walk, using the excuse of putting his jacket on a pair of broad, chilly shoulders to pull Dick close, arm around his waist. He'd probably lean in and steal a wet, messy kiss against his neck, nibble his earlobe until he hissed and pushed him away laughing. 

The image fades and he stares at the very real version of Dick in front of him, posture military straight as he regards the street below. He imagines what the men see when they look at him. Bravery and courage made flesh, the ultimate leader, a man you could look to in any situation, a man any of them would willingly follow into the bloodiest battles, a man without vices. 

Lew on the other hand is an expert in vices. They don’t define him but they’re as much a part of his family legacy as the Nixon name. He’s very good at recognizing them in others. It’s true that Dick doesn’t indulge in drink or women, not even nudey mags or smokes. His vice is much worse, much darker and more corruptive than alcohol. Lew thinks of every secret smile he’s been given, every private allowance made for him and only him, official paperwork changed to keep them from being moved too far apart. Nothing unethical, just a heavy dose of what the brass looked at as favoritism. 

That day in Neunen he realized he was Dick’s vice. He'd gone beyond a bad influence to something much more permanent. No man had ever seen Dick rattled, not before a jump, not on D-Day, not when every other man around him was so paralyzed with fear they couldn't climb out of a ditch. He had always been so fearless and composed. When Nix saw him hovering over him in Holland, hands nervously darting all over him, mouth hanging open and eyes like saucers, it was almost as shocking as the ping of the bullet itself. Dick was terrified. It was written across his face, plain as day. Nothing in the war so far had frightened him so much as the thought of losing Nix. 

That knowledge sat heavy in his belly for days. At first he wondered if he should feel guilty, responsible for letting someone as good as Dick get caught up with someone like him, if he should have spared him the trouble. Then he had noticed the man looking dead on his feet a few hours after dinner, checking on the men and verifying supplies and orders, everything always taking precedence over his own well being. He’d herded him like a mother hen, none too gently shuffling him towards CP and a warm meal. When Dick swallowed down the first few bites of soup and gave him a tiny, grateful smile, he’d realized that he was the only one performing this particular duty, he was the only one who could see through the tough command exterior, could see what Dick really needed, despite his stubborn insistence he was just fine, thank you. Ever since that he’s become resolved to this thing. Whatever it is, however foolish or short-lived, they’re in it together. 

“Nix”, the familiar warm voice shakes himself from the memory, drawing him to face him. “You were somewhere else.” He huffs a laugh and reaches for a smoke, cursing himself for being so readable and Dick for being such an expert in the subject. He’s always been able to seen through the metric tons of bullshit Lew puts on for other people, right down to his core. For some unfathomable reason he seems to have liked what he found there. 

“I was somewhere warm and quiet, nobody around - just me.” Dick’s face falls infinitesimally, only he'd notice it. “Me and you, of course.” It was a cheap shot but he can’t help the thrill as a corner of that impossible mouth turns up again. 

“And what were we doing in this warm, quiet place?” He steps a bit further into Lew’s space as thorough the very idea has pulled him in. 

He tells him about being younger together, being in school. “You had my jacket on and damn if it didn't look great on you. I pulled you close and kissed your neck till you laughed.” 

Dick reaches for his hand, squeezing their fingers together tightly, feels like he's trying to imply the embrace he's itching to give. He doesn't say anything, just smiles softly. He'd feel foolish for admitting such a silly fantasy if Dick didn't look so openly pleased, the set of his broad shoulders relaxed for once. He feels it too, that wave of peace and contentment, like just for this one moment, standing in a dusty attic with the war only a few streets away, everything is alright.


End file.
